


Wither

by phoenixjustice



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman - New 52
Genre: (makes sense in context), Bane isn't the only matchmaker, Bodyswap, Flowers and Angst, Jonny is a good friend, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, appearances by James Gordon and Harvey Bullock, mentions of Harvey Dent, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixjustice/pseuds/phoenixjustice
Summary: Batman was fire and will and spirit, with countless front pages talking of his deeds with the Justice League or stopping one of the Rogues from creating havoc on Gotham's streets.But he was also kind, introspective. Showed restraint and care with the fragile things.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	Wither

**Author's Note:**

> For Jester:
> 
> I hope you like this! <3

Wither

By: PhoenixJustice

Pairing: Batman/Joker.

Setting: immediately post- _Bloom_ (vol 9 of Batman New 52.) Spoilers for the comics.

Summary: Batman was fire and will and spirit, with countless front pages talking of his deeds with the Justice League or stopping one of the Rogues from creating havoc on Gotham's streets. But he was also kind, introspective. Showed restraint and care with the fragile things.

A/N: A few lines taken from vol. 9 _Bloom._

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The first thing he notices, upon his awakening, is the faint smell of flowers, the aroma deep and fragrant. It tickles his nose something fierce but he doesn't sneeze. His eyes slowly open and he blinks. Then blinks again. He had awoken in many places in his life, but he could say with complete certainty that he had never woken up in a...cave...like this before.

He blinks again.

He had never woken in a cave such as this before but he...he recognized this one, didn't he? He sits up and immediately stiffens when he looks down at himself. He would recognize _this_ attire if he had been rendered blind or dead (and he had been dead before! Down in a cave even. He had been brought back later of course, but down there, he and the Bat had fallen...together…)

He clenches and unclenches his hands, but the sight of them in Bat's gauntleted gloves do not change. And his body...well he had never been a big man, even during times when he had put on a bit of muscle here and there; his frame was just a bit of a smaller one, which he mostly didn't mind.

Speed and cunning had always been a great advantage for him. And more than that...it went with the theme of contrasts he had spent most of his adult life creating and working with, to contrast against the Batman as much as they also mirrored each other. Where the Bat would be dark, he would be bright, where the hero would be brooding and solemn, he would be boisterous and full of laughter.

He would always be what Bruce needed.

Bruce…

It strikes him then that he _remembered._ How had he forgotten? But no, they both had, hadn't they, for awhile after coming out of the Dionesium caves? But not where it mattered. Despite _everything,_ they had found each other again, Bruce coming across him at that park bench at that time. They eternally circled around one another. The thought of it was overwhelming.

He swallows and shakes his head. His body…

"Bats." He says...but he doesn't say it.

Bats' _voice_ says it as he does.

"Bats." He says again, but the voice doesn't change.

It's certainly the voice of Bruce Wayne as he speaks.

And this cave was certainly one he'd recognize anywhere, as it was the main hub of where Batman worked. He stands and stretches, feeling the unfamiliar yet familiar muscles move as he does so. He wasn't used to unfamiliar situations; he had made his life's work in creating the unfamiliar, in not wanting to repeat a _joke_ twice, but this felt... _weird._ So far out of his purview that he was feeling a bit dizzy with the realization that he had somehow been put into Batman's body.

...that still didn't stop him from looking underneath Bats' suit.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"They were out of salami, but I managed to get some prime pork cuts."

He blinks and groans. His vision is blurry for a moment but as it clears he sees a lazily moving ceiling fan atop a paint peeling ceiling, painted an almost garish shade of yellow. There was an aroma in the air that made him wrinkle his nose against its scent, like the smell of sunflowers and roses.

"You'll have to make due with plain bologna though, they were also out of mortadella…" A man's voice, slightly deep, sounding concerned now as he approaches. "Jackie? You alright?"

"Who is Jackie?" He asks. "And who are you?"

He freezes. That wasn't his voice.

But it was a voice he recognized.

He had heard it in the nighttime more times than he could count (including in the dreams he had always refused to admit he had) and sometimes during the daytime, so he would know it anywhere.

He sits up, groaning again, clutching at his head.

"You playing the amnesia game with _me_ again, Jackie?" The man says amused. He stood in front of Bruce now. He was about average height, wearing a slightly rumpled white suit and pink shirt, with white dress shoes to match (though they looked a bit scuffed up.) "That only worked _one_ time. It's not like I ever charge for the food anyway, yeah?"

"What did you do and what is this?" He tries to ask calmly, but no, his voice comes out the same again… _his_ voice.

How? Was this _his_ doing? No, it couldn't have been. _He_ was many things, but subtle wasn't usually his forte; he liked getting Bruce's attention too much. The last time he had managed to be so subtle was when he had fooled Bruce for months as Eric Border (he pointedly refuses to think of the many times they had worked together then.)

"You're being serious, aren't you?" The man asks, looking at him with furrowed blond brows, as brightly blond as his hair (a dye job? Maybe, but he didn't think so.) "Jack, I'm Jonny. Jonny Frost. Your friend."

_Jack._

The name almost maddens him and he doesn't understand why. It wasn't unusual for J… for _him_ to use aliases, whether people knew it was him using them or not (Eric Border, Joe Kerr, the stupidly amusing Rekoj, Bianca Steeplechase that one time at that Drag show, or many, many, _many_ others.)

So why then does the name strike him so?

He stands, looking at 'himself' with a quick eye, sucking in a breath. There was no doubt whose body this was, even if he was looking at it from a perspective he never would have expected to.

So then the question was...how in the hell did he _get_ here? The last thing he remembered was all but collapsing into his chair in the Batcave, having just enough energy to fall into it, after having pulled some double duty with seemingly independent incidents and Gotham and then immediately having to help out the Justice League with some extraterrestrial threats that needed more than just Clark's muscle.

And...Jonny Frost? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he cannot place it right away (which is annoying.)

Frost looks at him with worry filled eyes. How much should he say? Taking someone at face value wasn't very easy for Bruce, but he was still generally good at reading people (it had come in handy for many a case before, where brute force couldn't always get things done.)

The man seems genuinely worried, carrying himself with a bit of a relaxed air that was starting to tense up. In lieu of a response right away, Bruce finds himself looking around.

The place was a small, essentially a flat, with a small kitchen tucked into the left and he can see bags of food sitting on a small table (the food that Frost had mentioned?) and other varying small things of interest. Like on the small coffee table in front of Bruce that made up the living room, was an ashtray with a half smoked cigarette sitting in it. Had Joker smoked it? He hadn't known him to be a smoker; he had seen him with drinks in hand many a time, but smoking wasn't usually…

His stomach bottoms out again.

_Joker._

The name he had been straining not to say, even in his own mind. _This was Joker's place._

He had no reason not to believe so; the body he was currently inhabiting told him so. The man's expression, Frost, told him so. Little knick-knacks here and there...all Joker's. He sees a white jacket carefully folded over the lip of a chair and he nearly wants to cry from it.

" _So then don't do it._ _Don't_ _become who you were before."_

" _What the hell did you just say?"_

"I'm not...Jack." Bruce finally says, as if from far away, his mind still swirling with that hopeful look in those green eyes, the ones that _almost_ seemed like they knew him, remembered him, the same way he felt about him. "This will be..hard to believe, but…"

But Gotham had seen many things in her long history and her residents were long used to the macabre and strange and dark (even when they shouldn't have been.)

Frost says much the same thing.

"It's _Gotham,"_ Frost says with a wry smile. "There isn't much you can say that would shock me-"

"This isn't my body. But it is the body of the Joker's."

Frost's eyes turn sharp now, narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"And I'm Batman."

Frost's eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes a few times, floundering like a fish. Surprisingly though, he doesn't laugh. He simply looks stunned. After a few moments of staring at Bruce he finally manages to speak.

"You're Batman." Frost says in a flat tone.

Bruce nods. Perhaps he should have given an alias instead (like Joker he too had a few, though not as many; Matches Malone, Jack Shaw…) but the situation was already outlandish enough as it was. Either the man would believe him or he wouldn't. And either way, he'd be left to figure out just how to reverse this situation.

"Yes."

"And you're saying you're in Jackie's body...somehow."

_Jackie._ Well. He seemed to be well acquainted with Joker, even if only his amnesiatic self. His throat burns.

"Yes." At Frost's look he elaborates. "I don't know how."

"You weren't here before?" Frost asks.

Bruce shakes his-well _currently_ his-head, trying not to focus on the different tones that he was speaking, speaking through the lips of his once strongest enemy...yet not enemy. Whatever it was they were, he and Joker, was not so easily defined as _hero and villain._ He knew that and had all along, but like many other things to do with The Joker, he had tried to ignore that fact.

"I've never seen this place. Last I saw him," Bruce says, swallowing hard. "Was elsewhere. And he didn't know who he used to b-"

He stops, looking at the man, Jonny Frost, carefully once more. He hadn't blinked when Bruce had called 'Jack' _Joker_ (he _had_ been surprised, yes, but not at that. He had been surprised about Bruce saying he had swapped bodies with Joker somehow.)

He stands a little straighter, doing his best not to look down at the body he was currently inhabiting, resisting the urge (were there kiss marks or...or other things on Joker's body? How close were he and Jonny Frost really…)

"How do you know The Joker?"

"What do you mean?" Frost asks, as if confused, though his lies belie a sharp intelligence that makes Bruce's thoughts run overtime, trying to figure out what kind of man he is.

"You know what I mean." He says. "You didn't flinch when I called him Joker. You call him Jack, or Jackie, but you had no outward response of hearing the name Joker. This is _Gotham._ This is a city that knows-and generally fears-The Joker."

Frost looks at him, then sighs, some sort of tension being let loose out of his shoulders. He brings one of the kitchen chairs over, sitting on it backwards, leaning a bit on the back of the chair.

"Look," Frost starts. "Yeah, okay. I might know him. But that doesn't mean I know _you._ You could be anyone claiming to be the Bat. I know you're not Jackie; he plays tricks, a real _Joker,_ yes, but you're not him. But that doesn't mean you're the Batman either."

Bruce finds himself sitting down on the bed, looking across at Frost.

"What do you know of Joker?" He asks him.

"We're talking about who _you_ are."

"I know." He says, trying not to feel exasperated. "But these things...Joker and I...often go hand in hand."

Frost looks at him critically for a moment.

"What do you want to hear?" Frost finally asks.

"Do you know how he lost his memories?"

"Do _you?"_ Frost asks in reply.

Bruce grits his teeth. The time down there was one he didn't want to speak to _anyone_ about. It felt...wrong somehow, to speak of it in detail to someone. It was horrible and terrible, what they had put each other through down there. And...almost sacred. Died in a baptism of fire and blood and...forgiveness.

Only to be brought back to life again.

"The caves." He says hoarsely. "We had fought down there, tooth and nail. To the death. The last moment he ever spent was with me, by my side, as we both took our last breaths. My last moment was looking into his eyes. He…"

He shakes his head, ignoring the painful sting in his eyes.

"He had turned himself, used what little bit he had left to look back at me. We died looking into each other's eyes."

He looks up at Frost now, who looks stunned as he looks at him, ignoring the trail of a tear that falls down his eye now.

"And you were brought back to life by the Dionesium." Frost says.

Bruce stares at him. "Yes. How did you…"

"He doesn't remember." Frost says. "Not exactly. I think he's _afraid_ to. But I've heard enough from what he says in his sleep or says without thinking, without him realizing just what he's said."

He ignores the fire in his stomach at that ( _in his sleep,_ as if Frost and Joker are close enough to-) and nods.

Frost sighs, rubbing at his head for a moment before looking back at Bruce.

"Okay, so, you don't need to be mad or whatever." Frost says.

Bruce blinks at that. "Why would I be mad?"

Frost gives him a look, shrugging his shoulders inelegantly.

"I mean, it's not like I'm Jackie's bedroom friend or anything."

"I don't see how that would affect me." Bruce says, stiffly, wishing greatly then, even more, that he was in his own body. He wasn't sure if he could hide his expressions as well in this body. "We just had to verify that you were sure of who I truly am."

Frost snorts at that. "Sure, sure. It's not like you and Jack have a history that spans years or anything. Hey," He puts up his hands at Bruce's look. "Just saying."

"I need to use the phone." Bruce says abruptly. He couldn't let the weirdness of the situation keep him frazzled; beyond getting back into his own body, who knew just what could happen otherwise.

"Yeah, yeah, sure thing." Frost says. He pats his jacket before pulling out a cell phone and handing it over.

Bruce raises a borrowed brow at him. "You're just giving me your phone?"

"Well you're Batman, right? You'd probably be able to access it somehow anyway if you wanted to. And there's nothing of note on it." On _that_ phone most likely. But he lets it slide.

He calls a number. Nothing. Calls another number. Nothing. Calls _another_ number. Again...nothing. He almost calls the Manor, but quickly remembers that no one is currently there. It had taken an incredible amount of cajoling-and guilt tripping both from Bruce _and_ from Alfred's daughter, Julia-to make the man take a break. But after everything that happened as of late, Bruce knew that at least _one_ of them needed a break (and they both knew that Bruce would never be the one to take that break. Especially after having just come back from a break, of sorts, even if that had been due to his loss of memory.)

He starts to grow frustrated at no responses, as well as growing a bit worried (had something else happened in the time he had gone from his body to The Joker's?) But after what seems like too long, someone finally picks up on one of the calls.

"Lois Lane. If this is about the new newspaper app, me and my husband-"

"Lois." He says. "It's me."

A pause. A larger one. Then:

"Don't call this number again." She says roughly.

"Wait, don't hang up." He says quickly, before she can turn her phone off. Obviously she recognized Joker's voice. Joker had been in Metropolis enough that she would have recognized him just from that, even if Joker's deeds weren't often on the news, with the clown spouting off whatever thing that seemed to come to his head. "Silver bells hang at midnight."

Another pause.

"The sparrow flies at dawn." She says.

Bruce can feel his borrowed body slump a bit in relief. She knew it was him. There was a dummy system of words and phrases that the Justice League-and those connected to it, like Lois, through Clark-had in cases of emergency.

"Bruce. Thank god. But how?" She asks.

Although even words or phrases could potentially be compromised, Bruce had been deemed the most trustworthy to use the system because he had the highest threshold to keep from speaking any secrets that could be gained through tortuous means. Though other members of the League held more physical constitution, Bruce's willpower was said to be on another level (so much so that Hal kept joking about handing a Ring over to him.)

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He says, turning away from Frost a bit as he speaks. Though Frost seemed to know a lot, he still felt awkward talking about League things in front of him. "I've been calling around but no one has picked up. Not even your husband."

It's quiet for a moment.

"Are you not in a safe space to speak openly?" Lois asks.

His eyes glance over at Frost without thinking. The man raises up his hands.

"Look, I'm here to help." Frost says.

Bruce raises a skeptical brow at him.

"God you two are peas in a pod sometimes." Frost mutters. "After all I do for him…"

"I _am."_ Frost insists. "With all the info I gained from Jackie I could have turned it in ages ago, right? I knew about you in the caves. Meaning I know who you are, underneath the cloth and cape. I just don't care."

"Then what _do_ you care about?"

"I care about Jack." Frost says, very openly. "I ain't about to get into my own life story right now, but let's just say...the cops are corrupt, yeah? Not all or whatever, I know. But they still turn a blind eye oftentimes. The mob ain't much better either of course, but sometimes needs be what they are. But the shit I've been through...he helped me. He didn't have to. Especially when he was at the height of what everyone says was his 'madness.' But he did. He may not be a _good_ person, but he's a good person to _me._ Friends like that are hard fought in this city, Wayne."

Bruce freezes a bit at his name being spoken so openly by Frost, but the look in the man's eyes forces him to relax. He knew the truth when he saw it.

"I couldn't get in touch with anyone in the League." Bruce says back into the phone to Lois. He doesn't turn his back away from Frost again as he speaks more openly, showing the other man in the room a modicum of trust that Bruce did not often show.

"They're off-world." Lois says regretfully. "My husband said-"

"You can say his name." Bruce says. He looks back at Frost who raises a brow. "It's...fine."

"You're sure?" She asks.

"Yes."

"Alright. Well, Clark said that you'd have to take care of the sunflower yourself, whatever that means. He's not usually one to speak so-"

"The sunflower?"

"Yeah. Said that they couldn't help with it, something about Lilith Clay said she saw something and that it would be best if they stayed away for the duration, so they went off world to do some missions there."

"Ahh. I see. I'm sorry it's taken Clark away again."

"If not you, it'd have been something else. I'm used to it." She says with dry humor. "I'm just sorry they're not here to help."

"It's alright." He assures her. "Gotham is a city which helps her citizens, even if it doesn't always seem that way. I'll find a way."

"You always do. Bruce, if you need anything. Even if just information-"

"I know. Thank you. I'll call again if I need to."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Good. Hopefully you won't need to...no offense, but talking to what sounds like _The Joker_ is freaking me out a bit."

"I'm s-"

"But I'll deal. I'm a big girl." She says wryly. "And I've dealt with even stranger things, weirdly enough. Call if you need me though."

They both mutually hang up and he hands the phone back over to Frost who takes it with a little shrug.

"No good, then?" Frost asks.

"No." He says shortly.

"Hey hey," Frost says, putting his hands up. "No need to be testy. Just asking is all. In that case…"

"In that case _what?"_

"Well I might know a guy who can help."

Bruce gives a look which makes Frost laugh, of all things.

"Two peas in a pod." Is all Frost says before shrugging.

"Anyway," Frost says. "He can definitely help. If he's around, that is. And if not, I could probably give him a call. He's helped me and Jackie out a time or two."

Bruce looks at him suspiciously.

"Who?"

Frost smiles.

"You'll see."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Joker was not a stupid man. He was a man who often did things on a whim but that didn't mean he couldn't plan things. He had come up with as many ingenious plans as he had odd ones; that was something he could say with a surprising amount of sincerity and little ego. He was smart.

Problem was he also got _bored._

Now was an interesting time as he was currently-somehow-in the body of the one person in the entire multiverse that he truly cared about. Who he truly _loved_ even (though that was a constant conversation that Bats, unfortunately, kept avoiding.)

But he was also _alone_ right now. Not something that usually bothered him (eventually he liked to have attention, sure, but more often than not during down time he kept to himself, outside of a few people who he liked and trusted, like Jonny Jonny. Oh yeah he'd have to get a hold of him at some point. Ha! The _look_ on his face when he realized that Joker was in the body of the most eligible bachelor in Gotham City) but here he was, deep in the heart of the Batman's territory...and he couldn't even share in the moment with Batman.

Although the novelty of being in Batman's body had not worn off, he was quickly growing bored in other areas, as much of the technology and the like were inaccessible as he didn't have the passwords for them (he knew Bats wouldn't have simple passwords alone, but probably DNA scans, eye scans, things he could currently do, but tripled with things that Joker could only guess at. Paranoid, thy name was Batman.)

He sits back in the chair in front of the Batcomputer ( _ha! How_ _manly_ _, Batsy, to feel the need to put the stamp of your name on so many things!_ ), slouching a bit, a pout on his borrowed face that would never have been there with its usual occupant.

He could access most things, but he could put the borrowed brain to good use and do what Bats was so good at: deduction. It was a skill that Joker admired from Bats, though not when used against him, and one he watched in action more times than the hero realized. There were many nights, when boredom or longing became too much, but he also didn't feel in the headspace for their Dance, and he just watched Bruce at work.

It was the subtle things which made Joker love Bruce more. Helping a little old lady from a mugger. Pouring over files in a dark office to prove a man's innocence, feeding strays with the food that was probably meant to sustain him through another long, long night of seemingly never ending fighting.

Batman was fire and will and spirit, with countless front pages talking of his deeds with the Justice League or stopping one of the Rogues from creating havoc on Gotham's streets.

But he was also kind, introspective. Showed restraint and care with the fragile things.

It was some of those things that Joker had been able to see firsthand, when under the guise of Eric Border, a persona he crafted for himself that he both loathed and admired. Because Eric had been able to get close to Bruce in a way that Joker had yet to be able to. But it had been built on a false ideal, a false person. Shedding that skin, to see the horror in Bruce's eyes at being betrayed…

But no! Mustn't think of that now. Deduction. Clues that might help figure out just what happened and why they had been switched. _Had_ they been switched? He was certainly in Bruce's body now, but that was no guarantee that Bruce was in _his,_ was it? Occam's razor though… best go with that assumption, unless something proved otherwise. So, they had switched. But how?

What could he remember upon waking? Smells of the cave, of feeling like his skin didn't _quite_ fit right, which made sense as it wasn't _his_ , a smell of…

Flowers.

Flowers which were nowhere in sight and nowhere in the cave (Bats didn't seem like a flower kind of person, unless he was playing up his playboy persona…)

So...flowers.

There was one person in town that knew more about floral things than anyone.

He just hoped Pamela wouldn't immediately shut the door in his face.

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The amount of cajoling it took to get Wayne to agree to follow him might have made someone else be embarrassed or upset, but Jonny was too used to dealing with Joker and his moods for it to bother him at all.

They really _were_ too peas in a pod, Wayne and Jack. Was just sad to him that Wayne kept his feelings to himself, because there was no way he didn't know how Jack felt about him. None. But he could only interfere so far and the past little bit hadn't been the time to try and bring up Jack's feelings for Bruce Wayne, as he was still dealing with the amnesia from the cave incident.

They're on the way to Jonny's car which was parked on the corner of Jack's place when a guy comes out of nowhere, grabbing at Jonny, pushing him against the car before he can react.

"Thought you were told to stay out of the area, Frosty," The man says, waving a knife at Jonny's face. "You should know to stay out of-uff!"

The man gets suddenly pulled back by a white hand, pushing the man up against the car, face first, next to Jonny.

"What was that, Seaver?" Wayne hisses. He leans down to look in the man's face, borrowed green eyes flashing with a surprising amount of fire. "I thought you said something about this being _your_ area? Last I checked, Ozzie doesn't have the fucking monopoly on _my_ things."

The gestures, the way he spoke, _how_ he spoke, what he talked about… if Jonny didn't know any better he'd have thought this was Joker, full force. It was rather astounding to watch.

"J-J…" The man, Seaver, starts, his voice and body trembling.

"J...J!" Wayne mocks, shaking the man's shoulder a bit. "Can't even say my name? Two bit mob guy thinking he can be in _my_ area? My business?"

"No!" Seaver exclaims. "Joker, if I knew that you were-"

"You think Ozzie is going to be pleased with you trying to shake down people in my part of the city?" Wayne asks, demands. The other man frantically shakes his head, the perspiration from his forehead nearly hitting Jonny.

"I'm sorry. Look, I'll do anything! I'll-"

The man cries out in pain as Wayne, casual as you like, breaks one of his fingers.

"That's for trying to intimidate one of mine." Wayne says. "So much as breathe that way again and I'll take my time hacking your limbs off. Sound good?"

Shit, even the little _lilt_ at the end there, that almost perky tone despite the content was just like Joker.

"One more thing, before you go." Wayne growls. He leans down close to Seaver's ear. "Tell Ozzie that my standing reservation better still be good."

He lets go of Seaver and the man can't run away fast enough, seemingly determined to try and reach Flash levels of speed in his fear. Wayne turns to him and Jonny can't help but clap him on the back.

Wayne looks at him surprised.

"What?"

"What? _What?_ If I didn't fucking know better...that was J to a t, you know. You _know."_ He shakes his head in amazement as he gets into the car, Wayne following suit a moment later. "Two fuckin' peas in a pod. What did I say? Say, Bat, anyone ever tell you that you'd be suited for a criminal gig or two?"

Wayne's silent for a moment before glancing at Jonny.

"Who said I hadn't done so before, pal?"

It takes a second, but the obvious change in accent, despite being in Joker's voice, along with the way he said the sentence, makes Jonny's eyes widen.

"No fuckin' way!"

Wayne's borrowed mouth turns into a grin, surprising Jonny further. He hadn't known Wayne had a real sense of humor.

Wayne was the legendary Matches Malone too? Small fucking world indeed.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He hadn't gone to Pamela's, the former, current, whenever she decided to be, Poison Ivy, place in a long time (amnesia would do that to you! But they also didn't generally get along. She was happily with Harley and well...he and Harley were like oil and water when it came to a romantic relationship, as much as Harley had tried to make the situation otherwise. They weren't good for each other. He didn't always have a lot of self awareness, but he had enough to know that he had been terrible to her as a lover. As friends they gelled in a much better way.)

He hoped she would be able to sort this out quickly. As fun as this was, he wanted to be at a point where he could touch Bats because Bruce _let_ him and not because he was currently inhabiting his body (...life was strange sometimes, even for him, when he really thought about it.)

And though Pamela and Bruce were _far_ from friends either, generally on either side of battle against one another, though not always, she might be more inclined to help, given that the thought of Joker being able to run around as Batman would probably freak some people out.

Well...before hanging up the borrowed cowl and cape, at least he got to take a spin in the Batmobile! And for once it wasn't to take him back to Arkham! How fun!

Luckily for him he's seen Bats mess with it enough during the times he went to haul Joker back to Arkham for the millionth and one time, to know how to start it up and that it didn't take anything extra special to do so.

He speeds out into the city quickly, laughing as the car picks up speed, feeling the wind on his face from the open window (oops? Would Brucey be mad he left the window open? Oh well. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him!)

He takes the quickest route he knows, grinning as he flies by the GCPD, waving with a cheeky grin at an astounded looking James Gordon as he is standing in front talking to Bullock, who spills his coffee on his already stained shirt.

"Tootles!" He chortles as he hurries past.

Okay, so maybe he would have a _little_ fun before giving it back to Brucey.

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The place is small and nothing that stands out; just another brick apartment in the sea of apartments in the area, not too far from where Joker's place was. Maybe if he hadn't seen the obvious surprise and admiration in Frost's eyes after taking care of Seaver, then maybe he'd feel more doubt about where he was taking him, but Frost seemed as sincere as Bruce could see. Especially so, as he knew who Batman was under the cowl and cape and hadn't done anything about it.

"So you really think you know someone who can help with body swapping?" He asks dryly, the novelty of hearing Joker's voice speaking in a way it didn't usually an interesting one.

"If he can't, then we might have to try and hunt down some more of your friends and see if any are around." Frost says, hands in his pockets as they walk. "I don't know him as well as J does-I met him through J-but he definitely knows his stuff."

"Calling him J now?"

Frost shrugs. "Well by your looks and the like, doesn't seem like the time to call him Jack anymore. He wouldn't want to be called that anymore, if his memory is back."

Joker's body had changed during the time Bruce had inhabited it, so he too wondered, wherever Joker was, if he had gained his memory back as well.

"Why wouldn't he?"

"He doesn't like to be reminded of his past."

Bruce swallows and doesn't look at Frost. They get to the door and Frost lets out a couple short raps onto the door. It's quiet. He knocks again. Then again. Then _again._ Bruce quickly realizes that it's a pattern of some sort, a password or something similar to gain entry. A way to let the person on the other side know it was safe.

Eventually, finally, the door opens, a small crack and Frost pushes the door open, walking inside. Bruce follows after a brief look around. There is no one at the door, but in the fairly darkened living room, after they pass through the small kitchen, he sees the outline of someone sitting on the couch.

"What are you bothering me with this time, Jon?"

Wait.

Frost takes a step forward.

"It's a weird one. I'd say you probably wouldn't believe it, but it's _you_ we're talking about."

"Just because I _know_ things doesn't mean I always want to be bloody bothered though, either."

He knew that voice.

He steps forward, past Frost, just as the light from a match illuminates a cigarette that sat in a man's mouth. A second later candles all around light up as well, further illuminating the man's face.

"So, what do you want this time, JJ?"

John Constantine takes a long inhale and lets out a long stream of smoke.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He's only a few blocks away from Pamela's place now when a sudden scream from a nearby alleyway catches his attention. He frowns and brings the car to a quick stop. Another scream. ...fuck. Bruce would never forgive him if he ignored it, would he?

He doesn't think about the fact, as he is quickly out of the car and heading towards the sound of the screaming without a second thought, that Bruce wouldn't know he didn't choose to help, but he is still helping anyway.

There's a small crowd around a young woman and he's utterly enraged when he sees the stripes and colorful attire they're wearing. He's up to them in seconds, borrowed feet all but flying to them. One of them turns at the sound but doesn't have time to react as a fist comes flying his way, sending him sailing across the pavement.

"Oh fuck it's the Bat!"

The next few seconds are a blur of hands and feet, fists and weapons and he barely notices the blows from hands or weapons (was that a crowbar? That was _his_ shtick!) He feels the blood in his ears and the adrenaline rush burns through him, intensifying with each smack upon the face, the feeling so intense he nearly moans from it. Was this what the Bat felt like everytime he fought?

The people end up a pile in front of him, face to the pavement and he feels a surprising amount of satisfaction. He leans down to look at one of them, grabbing at their hair.

"Why were you attacking that woman?"

"Woman?" The guy spits on the sidewalk, one eye already starting to noticeably swell. "That fag wearing women's clothing you mean? Ain't no place for-"

He punches the man again, which knocks him unconscious. He glares at the man's form before looking at the other people who cower under his look.

"Trying to be a part of Harvey's stable of people? Really? With that kinda attitude?" He asks sardonically. "The only _straight_ thing about Harvey is the ties he wears!"

He shakes his head, tying them all up (Brucey's belt really _was_ handy!) before making his way over to the woman who starts to sit up.

She flinches a bit as he approaches.

"It's alright." He wasn't sure just how to soothe somebody but she looked pretty distraught and Batman would never let someone be sad, right? "I took care of them."

She puts a shaky hand to the ground to try and stand up.

"Wait. Here." He helps her up and she looks up at him with teary eyes. Deduction. Right. "They just attacked you?"

She hesitantly nods. "I was just making my way through because it's the quickest way from my work to my house. They surrounded me and started attacking me. Calling me-" She swallows.

"You don't have to worry about them anymore." He assures her.

She hesitantly smiles. "Thank you."

He feels a funny little feeling in his chest.

"I-I heard you helped all kinds of people, but I wasn't...sure." She shakes a bit. "Too often I get called fag or other things in a derogatory way simply because I just want to be _myself."_

"And you deserve to be." He tells her. "Batman doesn't care for anyone who tries to hurt people, especially those who hurt the marginalized, the people who already go through so much strife and grief."

"Really?" She asks, the tears seeming to dry on her face.

"Yes."

_Bruce has always been so much more. So much_ _more_ _than me. Is it any wonder I've done everything I can to try and cling to him in any way I can? I want him to accept me, but I've done so much...so much. I've tried to carve my existence into you, Bruce, because I don't want you to ever forget about me._

He makes a quick call to GCPD (he had prank called there as much as he had called to do more nefarious things) to pick up the people he had tied up. He heads back to the car only after the woman, Vanessa, waves him off, assuring him many times that she was fine to go from here.

He's unusually quiet for himself as he continues on the way to Pamela's, frowning in his introspection.

That had felt...nice. Helping her. Being thanked. He wasn't used to being genuinely thanked. Even if it had been in a guise that was not his own, it still felt rather personal. He had chosen to do something and he had been thanked for it.

That funny little feeling in his chest twists a bit more.

_Would you be proud of me, Bruce, if you knew?_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"JJ?" He finds himself asking.

"What?" Constantine asks gruffly, finishing up the last bit of his cigarette and eyeing him with a look. "You're acting like you haven't heard me say that before."

"That's because he hasn't." Frost says.

Constantine glances at Frost. "Come again?"

"I thought you were puttering around London," Bruce says. "A case about a wendigo?"

The occultist's eyes narrow as he looks at him before widening a bit. He sits back on his couch, mouth in a bit of a smirk.

"So. Going to tell me how you ended up in your boyfriend's body then?" Constantine asks him.

"What's with the name JJ? And no," Bruce says, glaring at Constantine, who looks completely unaffected by it. "He's not my boyfriend. How in the hell do you know Joker anyway?"

"Well…" Constantine starts, dragging out the last couple of letters for a bit. "As much as this city is 'yours', it doesn't mean you know everything that goes on. And I draw outside the lines as much as I color in them, you know that. I do my own thing and have plenty of my own company to keep. It's JJ for Joker and Jonny, if you wanna know. Double J they're called in some circles."

"And," He adds, smirk widening. "I'd believe your 'not my boyfriend' bit more if you didn't constantly save his skinny arse. But hey," He puts his hands up at Bruce's look. "Whatever floats your boat. Like I give a shit; got enough bloody ex boyfriends that aren't exactly going to be on the cover of Morality Weekly either. But I don't think your or my love life is why you're here."

"You can help then?" Frost asks.

"Can? Yeah." Constantine says. " _Will I?_ That's what you _really_ want to know, isn't it?"

"Will you?" Bruce asks with a bit of impatience.

"Hmm. Let's see. Help put you to rights or let The Joker run loose doing who knows what, which will keep me up at night because you lot won't leave me be…" Constantine pretends to think about it, tapping his chin. "I wonder which I'll do…"

"Constantine-" Bruce starts.

Constantine affixes him with a look, snorting. "Look, Bats, relax. I'll do it. No need to get your borrowed knickers into a bunch."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The occultist doesn't do anything overly special. In fact he simply moves a table out of the way in the living room and sits, legs crossed, closing his eyes as he mutters some things under his breath.

Bruce wasn't unfamiliar with magic but it was always an interesting sight to behold when someone cast magic, especially as there were so many different types of it out there, as Constantine's brand of magic he used was certainly different than someone like Zatanna's.

"The source of the spell." Constantine murmurs after a moment, eyes still closed, head moving around slightly, as if searching. "It's...strange."

"Strange how?"

"Like the stem of a flower."

That gives Bruce pause.

"A flower?"

"Yes."

"I...smelled a flower, when I first came awake." Bruce says.

That smell, like standing in a field of sunflowers…

" _Ah yes. It's such a distinct scent, isn't it."_ The voice suddenly comes out of Constantine's mouth, through his lips, but the voice is not Constantine's voice. The man's eyes open and they are filled with a yellow fire.

" _Have you liked the return to the Meadow, Batman? Or should I call you Joker now?"_

That voice…he recognized that voice. He would have said it was impossible, as the man was supposed to be _dead,_ but Bruce lived in an impossible world.

"How did you survive?"

" _Things die, Batman. But they also grow again. They_ _Bloom._ _"_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The door to Pamela's home is ajar, which immediately puts him on edge, but he still makes his way inside, looking around cautiously.

"Pamela?" He says. It's quiet. "I need to talk to you."

"I _n_ he _re_." She says from somewhere further inside, her voice sounding a bit...wobbly? "The _kitch_ en."

He heads in and sees her, back turned to him, pouring liquid into a couple cups.

"This is going to sound, _heh,_ crazy," Joker says. "But if anyone can help me, I think it's you. The flowers-"

She turns and his eyes widen as she looks at him, looks through him, sunflowers falling from her open mouth

" _I know."_ The voice that comes from her mouth is not her own. _"Aren't they just lovely? Did you like it, by the way?"_

"Like...what?" He asks faintly.

He was by _no_ means a stranger to the macabre or strange or weird things of the world. He had made his living for years dealing with-and doing-all sorts of things. But this was a bit off putting, even for him. Something about the sunflowers...wait.

The scent...he recognized that scent.

" _Living in the skin of your beloved. Rather apropos, don't you think? But oh! Not for long, of course. Not if you want to see him again."_

He feels his blood immediately start to boil.

"What have you _done_ with him?" He grabs at Pamela,

" _Kill this body and you'll never know. And it won't kill me anyway. If you want to know, then go back. Back to where it all began for the two of you."_

"Why-"

Pamela's body collapses onto the floor. He kneels down. Still breathing. He frowns and lets out a curse, heading back to the car.

Where it all began…

There was only one place that could be.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

" _Bloom!"_ Bruce exclaims. "Fix this!"

" _Shaking the body of your friend won't help you. Violence will only hurt his body. You cannot harm me. And you seem to be under the impression that you can order me around. No cajoling will make me reverse it. But that maybe should not be your first concern. Perhaps your first concern should be who currently has your body and what is happening to him."_

Joker.

He grabs at Constantine's shirt, pulling him close. "What have you done to him?"

Constantine's mouth goes into a wide smile and Bruce watches horrified as a sunflowers falls from it.

" _Back to where it began for the two of you."_ The yellow bright eyes of Constantine look at him, wide. _"Go back to where it all began!"_

And Constantine's body collapses.

Bruce checks his vitals and stands seconds later. He turns to look at Frost who takes a step back, so he can only wonder what the expression on his borrowed face is.

"Keys." Bruce says. _"Now."_

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

ACE Chemicals is much as he remembers it, down to the particular smell of green apples from the open vats, can still remember the burning, white hot feeling that is too great, even, to call _pain._ Remembers his last sight, before falling into the vats, being the shocked look of someone who he loved already, a man who had outstretched his hand-

He clenches that same hand. This was the body that had been borne of blood and violence in an alleyway. A body that had hardened itself through countless trials that Joker could only begin to guess at. A mind that constantly honed itself as much as the body was honed. A mind that was constantly at work, thinking, _solving…_

How could _anyone_ look upon Bruce Wayne and not see the marvel that he was?

Every time...everytime Joker looked at him, it always took his breath away.

He might not be good at it, but all the same...looking upon Bruce made Joker realize that he could love. Love greatly. Love strongly, though not always wisely (he had done so much to try and break apart bonds in the vain hope that it could create a _greater_ one, together.)

Bruce...where was Bruce?

He had looked around everywhere in the place, though only one area of this place meant the most, but nothing. Had he been led astray by Bloom? But what else could he have done?

The thought of anything happening to Bruce…

Even if Bloom hadn't, it didn't mean Bruce couldn't have come across someone else. Bruce was the most capable person Joker knew, but they both had been blindsided by a sudden shift in bodies. What if Jonny hadn't shown up to Joker's house like he had said he was going to? What if Bruce didn't accept any help?

Was the words by Bloom a mere ruse, keeping Joker's borrowed eyes in a place they shouldn't be?

But it _felt_ right, important, to be here…

" _Joker!"_

He turns, eyes widening in shock.

Standing on the other side of the metal walkway-

"Bruce." He breathes.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He had gotten the keys from a stunned Frost, telling him to keep an eye on Constantine, before getting into Frost's car, probably breaking every speed limit in the city, his thoughts focused on only one thing, his heart beating in staccato bursts, the urge saying _Find him, find him_ pressing him onwards.

Had him hurrying to ACE Chemicals, the place where so much had changed for the both of them, both of them being forever altered, if in different ways. Led him through the now familiar corridors, up stairs, until he is on an even more familiar walkway, staring at his own body across the way.

He starts at Joker calling him by name, can only stare at him, looking at a familiar man in unfamiliar skin. Looking at familiar skin by a man who...was both familiar _and_ unfamiliar to him.

They hadn't seen each other since that night on the park bench.

That man had been...it was Joker. But he had been...quieter, more introspective. Hurting. The pain had been visible on his face and in his pretty green eyes in a way it hadn't really ever been, even at Joker's most upset. Even then, before then, he hadn't let _that_ kind of pain show. But the amnesia man had Joker bleeding through, a sadness on an unfamiliar face with eyes that Bruce could never forget, even then.

He sees that now, that sadness, as he approaches. No, as Joker approaches him. No...as they walk towards each other at the same time, as if breathing on the same breath. He looks at his body, his own eyes, but that expression...that expression on the face could only be Joker's.

"Bruce." Joker says again. "You're alright."

He reaches a hand forward to touch Bruce but stops before doing so, staring at Bruce almost helplessly.

There's so much he finds he wants to say. So much has happened, not just this night, but many nights before. To know how the rest of their conversation on the bench would have gone if they hadn't been interrupted by Bloom. To know what would have happened if he had been able to grab Red Hood One's hand before he fell into the chemicals. If death and strife and so many other things had never gotten in the way…

Back in the beginning…

But even after that...he had made his own choice, hadn't he?

He had chosen to die with Joker, down in those caves.

He takes the step forward, metaphorically _and_ physically, leaning into Joker's hand. Joker looks at him now, stunned.

"Bruce." Joker whispers.

And Joker leans forward, kissing him.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He had done it without thinking.

It was just...seeing Bruce there, despite it being Joker's own body, it was like he was seeing Bruce. That look on his body was not his look, it could only be Bruce's. But then...that _look_ that came after.

He had never seen Bruce look at _him_ that way.

So when Bruce leans so obviously into Joker's touch, he couldn't help himself. His eyes close and he kisses him, his heart hurting so keenly in that moment that he felt like he might physically ache from it. To know such a feeling-

Bruce pulls back suddenly, coughing.

"It's been awhile since I've kissed anyone." Joker says, feeling a bit offended. "But I know I couldn't be _that_ ba-"

He stops, eyes widening. Bruce stares back at him, eyes equally as wide.

He was looking at Bruce.

He was looking at Bruce who was back in his own _body!_

He starts to say something else but coughs too, a seed flying out of his mouth, next to a seed that he can see came from Bruce. The seeds blossom- _bloom_ -into sunflowers, before dissolving away seconds later.

"Do you think we changed back because enough time passed?" Joker wonders aloud.

"You're not going to say it's because we kissed?" Bruce asks.

Joker stills, his lips still tingling from said kiss. Though now it was lips that he had kissed. Hmm. Well, weirder things had happened in Gotham…

"And," Bruce continues, looking at Joker. "No."

"No what?" He asks. The closeness of Bruce left his heart-now his genuine own heart-to beat wildly in his chest.

"No," Bruce breathes. "You are not a bad kisser."

"That's...good." Joker says faintly. "Because I plan to do it again."

Bruce smiles.

"Then show me."

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End file.
